Jocelyn Selle
Never have I hated anyone as much as I have hated my twin sister Calia. She was cruel and uncaring and for years treated me like I was no better than a dog or a despicable piece of dirt. Yet, I can honestly say that I have never had so strong a bond of love with anyone as that I share with my sister. Life is odd that way; to make you hate and love at the same time. It is unavoidable though, a paradox that was never meant to be understood by mortal minds. Even with the wisdom amassed by one who has seen so many years as I cannot comprehend why, no matter what our family does to us, we continue to love them. This is the story of my life, and I intend to record it for all to know.
I was born in the city of Noren M’Shar, the farthest south of the great cities of Seanchan, to a pair of so’jhin. My mother gave birth to a set of twins that day; I was the younger of two girls by nearly a quarter of an hour. I grew up and had a comfortable life as so’jhin. It wasn’t as bad as one would imagine, being owned by a member of the Blood, but I had dreams. Calia would have been more than content to follow the same path as our parents had in their lives. She would be happy to remain no more than a slave, for despite the respect we got we were property, for her entire life. I was never as accepting as Calia was though. I wanted to convince the member of the Blood who owned my family to release me, even though they would be obligated to support me. I would join the Ever Victorious Army and perhaps be raised to the Blood myself someday. That was my dream. It was the foolishness that sprouts from all young minds, but there was a time when I truly believed I could make it happen. It turned out that this stubborn foolishness that caused me so much pain.
It was in the month after our sixteenth nameday that the festival when the sul’dam came for the testing occurred. Both my and Calia’s life changed forever that day. She, my most despised yet loved twin sister, was told she would be a sul’dam that day. To my mind it made sense that I would also be sul’dam as, even if we weren’t identical, we were twins. It seemed the Wheel and the Pattern deemed to punish me though. I was not told I would be sul’dam instead a collar was put around my neck. My former owner and my family were told to strike my name from all records, that Calia was an only child. I was made damane.
To my mind, being made damane was the ultimate blow to my pride. Calia got absolutely every bloody good thing in the world, and I was left with what my ever so lucky sister rejected. Between the two of us, Calia had the beauty. She had raven black hair that always seemed to have a wonderful shine, she had bright, crystal blue eyes, and she had the attention of every man, woman, and child every time she stepped out the door. People simply adored my twin. I, on the other hand, was not so gifted as Calia. I didn’t have her beauty; my hair was chestnut colored, slightly frizzy, and had never had the same beautiful luster as my sister’s. My eyes were a plain light green which many might have considered strikingly colored had they not been compared to the crystal blue eyes of Calia. When I went out I was always in the shadow of Calia, the ever perfect twin. When she was made sul’dam and I was made damane it was just another example of the way Calia got everything.
For a year after that day I did not see Calia, and I was glad for it. I was bitter and angry and, unlike the typical Seanchan woman, I did not submit to and embrace my fate. I fought the sul’dam every chance I had, and I received more than my fair share of beatings from an angry sul’dam. A damane did not need to be in physically good shape to be useful anyway. After a time I grew accustomed to the beatings I received and would cease to give the sul’dam that beat me the satisfaction of hear me cry out. I would not be broken; I promised myself that. Yet after months of being mistreated, I found myself losing the ability to fight back. I had, against my will, become almost eager to respond to commands. I’m not sure what I did when I realized this, but somehow I locked the core of my personality away from the world. I put my mind in a place where the sul’dam could not reach it; I gave up physically so that I could persevere mentally. It was at the very moment that I did this that another entity was born. A few months later, my formerly loving sister gave this new being a name. That name was Juri.
Everything that happened after that point is still no more than loose memories that feel like snatches of a story that someone told me. My recollection of that time is like remembering a gleeman’s tale perhaps, but certainly not my own memory. My conscious mind, at least as I know it now and had known it before I was damane, ceased to function to preserve itself. That is all I really know. I remember a small bit of being sent across the Aryth Ocean with Calia because I spent a portion of the journey violently seasick, and I remember being captured by an Aes Sedai. Most of the rest is lost to me.
My next truly coherent memory is waking up in an unfamiliar place and being told that I was a novice of the White Tower.
Well, are you curious? Then go check out the Wheel of Time RP on the Wheel of Time books by Robert Jordan!
Monday, February 13, 2006
Biography for Calia Selle
Calia Selle
In my many years of living in this Age, I have discovered that there are only two things sweeter than the all encompassing embrace of saidar. The first is life itself. Not life as just the state of being alive, but really living. Life in a world that, for all its imperfections, could be no brighter in your eyes. Nothing is more precious than life, and few things are its equal. However, one thing that equals the pureness of life is love. Love has both the power to heal and destroy when wielded by man. Wars have been waged for no less than love and lives have been lost for the sake of love true and pure. There is no bond that love will not strengthen, and no heart that the loss of it will not break. That is a fact that I can personally attest to. Love is the Light’s greatest weapon to meet the hatred of the Dark for the Darkness cannot understand something so pure. I am getting ahead of myself though. I intend to tell this story properly; from the very beginning.
I was born in Noren M’Shar, third largest city in Seanchan, to Laran and Tyrai Selle. My parents were both so’jhin, hereditary upper servants to members of the Blood, as were their parents before them and their parents before them. So is the history of my family as far back as anyone can recall. Now, what one must understand about Seanchan culture is that, despite the fact that we were no more than property, so’jhin were respected. The average free citizen of Seanchan tread lightly around so’jhin, just as the Blood tread lightly around the so’jhin of the Empress, may she live forever, because the social structure dictated that we held a position above that of a free man. As so’jhin I held power but not freedom, yet I was very content with my life. I was happy, and I was never without a friend because I had a sister.
Custom dictates that the woman who was – is – my sister, is not to be spoken of as a person any longer. By custom so strong it might as well be law Jocelyn, my sister and twin, is less than human. She was leashed when we were just past our sixteenth nameday, but my story would be incomplete without her. The day she was collared was the same day I was handed the leash. For an entire year after that I was educated in being sul’dam and had to keep my newly shaved head covered the entire time. Now it seems insignificant, but it was on of the things I always remembered about that time. Hair was an outward mark of rank; so’jhin wore half their head shaved completely as a mark of their position in society. A sul’dam was not so’jhin so my head had to be shaved of all the glossy black hair that I so loved. Of course this meant I had to cover my new baldness because only members of the Imperial family had their heads completely shaved. An odd custom if there ever was on; at least looking back now it seems so because then it was a very important part of life.
In that year I was first educated in the cursed power of the damane because one cannot control what they do not understand. To understand cursed saidar was to understand the damane. The second part of my training was learning to handle a damane. It wasn’t a difficult task once you understood the use of an a’dam. It was in this same year that Jocelyn, who had always been too stubborn for her own good, was broken and reshaped into the perfect damane. After that she was handed over to me to learn to really use her power. I feel horrible now that I look back on what I did, and I’m certainly not proud of my actions from back then. I no longer so Jocelyn as my sister though, I saw her as dirt beneath my boots. She was damane, no better than a dog. I promptly renamed her Juri after a kitten we had had as children. After all, Jocelyn was no proper name for a damane.
Four years later, five years after when it was found that I could and would be sul’dam, Jocelyn and I were both sent with the Corenne at the tender age of twenty-one. I thought I knew everything at that point and Jocelyn was no longer the girl I had grown up with; she might as well have been a body with no soul. I quickly found out the hard way that the grand return of the descendents of Artur Hawking’s armies was not as glorious as it was supposed to be though. It began with months on a wretched ship to cross the Aryth Ocean and ended on the continent of our ancestor’s birth where they allowed the unthinkable. Marath’damane were allowed to run free and endanger not only themselves but everyone around them as well. Not only that, but it seemed these Aes Sedai, as they called themselves, held power here. I, of course, found it utterly despicable! Who would have ever had the stupidity to let those who could channel saidar run free?
I became obsessed with these marath’damane who fashioned themselves better than all others. They put themselves on pedestals to make themselves equal to the Creator himself. I quickly got myself and Jocelyn, the damane of my choice as she was my twin after all, assigned a mission to learn as much about those who called themselves Aes Sedai as was possible for the assistance to the Return. I thought I was invincible; no marath’damane could stop me from gaining information to complete my mission. If I was successful I might even stand a chance of someday being made a der’sul’dam. It would be a truly high honor. My confidence in my own infallibility was my downfall though. Eight months into my mission, a year after I had first arrived in this strange land, I made a grievous mistake. I allowed one of the pitiful Aes Sedai to capture both Jocelyn and I and drag us to their home base. The stupid marath’damane believed that I could touch the filthy saidar as well. With proper training, of course. In less than a day I was enrolled as a novice in the White Tower.
The rest… Well, the rest is a tale for another time.
In my many years of living in this Age, I have discovered that there are only two things sweeter than the all encompassing embrace of saidar. The first is life itself. Not life as just the state of being alive, but really living. Life in a world that, for all its imperfections, could be no brighter in your eyes. Nothing is more precious than life, and few things are its equal. However, one thing that equals the pureness of life is love. Love has both the power to heal and destroy when wielded by man. Wars have been waged for no less than love and lives have been lost for the sake of love true and pure. There is no bond that love will not strengthen, and no heart that the loss of it will not break. That is a fact that I can personally attest to. Love is the Light’s greatest weapon to meet the hatred of the Dark for the Darkness cannot understand something so pure. I am getting ahead of myself though. I intend to tell this story properly; from the very beginning.
I was born in Noren M’Shar, third largest city in Seanchan, to Laran and Tyrai Selle. My parents were both so’jhin, hereditary upper servants to members of the Blood, as were their parents before them and their parents before them. So is the history of my family as far back as anyone can recall. Now, what one must understand about Seanchan culture is that, despite the fact that we were no more than property, so’jhin were respected. The average free citizen of Seanchan tread lightly around so’jhin, just as the Blood tread lightly around the so’jhin of the Empress, may she live forever, because the social structure dictated that we held a position above that of a free man. As so’jhin I held power but not freedom, yet I was very content with my life. I was happy, and I was never without a friend because I had a sister.
Custom dictates that the woman who was – is – my sister, is not to be spoken of as a person any longer. By custom so strong it might as well be law Jocelyn, my sister and twin, is less than human. She was leashed when we were just past our sixteenth nameday, but my story would be incomplete without her. The day she was collared was the same day I was handed the leash. For an entire year after that I was educated in being sul’dam and had to keep my newly shaved head covered the entire time. Now it seems insignificant, but it was on of the things I always remembered about that time. Hair was an outward mark of rank; so’jhin wore half their head shaved completely as a mark of their position in society. A sul’dam was not so’jhin so my head had to be shaved of all the glossy black hair that I so loved. Of course this meant I had to cover my new baldness because only members of the Imperial family had their heads completely shaved. An odd custom if there ever was on; at least looking back now it seems so because then it was a very important part of life.
In that year I was first educated in the cursed power of the damane because one cannot control what they do not understand. To understand cursed saidar was to understand the damane. The second part of my training was learning to handle a damane. It wasn’t a difficult task once you understood the use of an a’dam. It was in this same year that Jocelyn, who had always been too stubborn for her own good, was broken and reshaped into the perfect damane. After that she was handed over to me to learn to really use her power. I feel horrible now that I look back on what I did, and I’m certainly not proud of my actions from back then. I no longer so Jocelyn as my sister though, I saw her as dirt beneath my boots. She was damane, no better than a dog. I promptly renamed her Juri after a kitten we had had as children. After all, Jocelyn was no proper name for a damane.
Four years later, five years after when it was found that I could and would be sul’dam, Jocelyn and I were both sent with the Corenne at the tender age of twenty-one. I thought I knew everything at that point and Jocelyn was no longer the girl I had grown up with; she might as well have been a body with no soul. I quickly found out the hard way that the grand return of the descendents of Artur Hawking’s armies was not as glorious as it was supposed to be though. It began with months on a wretched ship to cross the Aryth Ocean and ended on the continent of our ancestor’s birth where they allowed the unthinkable. Marath’damane were allowed to run free and endanger not only themselves but everyone around them as well. Not only that, but it seemed these Aes Sedai, as they called themselves, held power here. I, of course, found it utterly despicable! Who would have ever had the stupidity to let those who could channel saidar run free?
I became obsessed with these marath’damane who fashioned themselves better than all others. They put themselves on pedestals to make themselves equal to the Creator himself. I quickly got myself and Jocelyn, the damane of my choice as she was my twin after all, assigned a mission to learn as much about those who called themselves Aes Sedai as was possible for the assistance to the Return. I thought I was invincible; no marath’damane could stop me from gaining information to complete my mission. If I was successful I might even stand a chance of someday being made a der’sul’dam. It would be a truly high honor. My confidence in my own infallibility was my downfall though. Eight months into my mission, a year after I had first arrived in this strange land, I made a grievous mistake. I allowed one of the pitiful Aes Sedai to capture both Jocelyn and I and drag us to their home base. The stupid marath’damane believed that I could touch the filthy saidar as well. With proper training, of course. In less than a day I was enrolled as a novice in the White Tower.
The rest… Well, the rest is a tale for another time.
Biography for Terrian Dy'ner
Just to give you all a quick idea of what each of my characters is like, I'm going to post each of their bios here. These, by the way, are written in first person instead of my normal third person limited.
Terrian Dy'ner
I remember the day I died.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was high in a clear blue sky, casting its warm light across the city of Tar Valon and making the white walls of the White Tower sparkle like a great gemstone in the distance. A great ivory spire, breathtaking in its beauty, that was beautifully silhouetted in the distance against the sapphire of a spring sky. It disgusted me. As much as the beauty of the sight took my breath away and left me awed in much the same way the splendor of the Fortress of the Light did, the White Tower left me sickened for what it represented. I remember that feeling so clearly; as clearly as I remember the day. It was the day before Winternight, and the air was crisp yet held the promise of warmer days to come. I approached Tar Valon, knowing that I was walking willingly into the hands of the Dark. My feet had carried me to the city though, and I knew in my heart there was no other place for me to go. Not if I wanted to live; and if I wanted to live I had to die.
My journey had started many months prior to that day, in the deep cold of a particularly bitter winter. I had discovered, through the limited knowledge held by my mother, that the sickness I had endured for the past week had been because the spark had finally manifested itself within me. I had been absentmindedly thinking of how cold it was when a small flame flickered into existence in front of me. It shocked me because I had no idea that I had actually created it with my want for warmth. If I had known then what I know now about ignoring the cold I might have been spared the pain I was about to endure for a few weeks more. Two of the Children of the Light had seen what I had done. They knew me, as most did because my father commanded many of those in the city, and they followed after me as I ran. I hardly knew what had happened, but I knew that it wouldn't be good for me.
I ran through the streets of the city I had been raised in, not knowing what had possessed me to begin running and not knowing that it had been I that channeled the small flame. Survival instinct had me run from the two Children, so I ran. I ran until I ran straight into a dead end. I turned to go back the way I came, but the two who had chased me stood in the alleyway's entrance. Wincing, I resigned myself to my fate only to have the two men move off in confusion. Somehow, they hadn't seen me despite the fact that I had stood right before them. Looking back, I know that it was Concealment at work. Then, I had only been able to hurry home in confusion. Not two days later I fell terribly ill. I did not know then, and I still do not know now, how my mother came to her next conclusion but she did. My mother determined that I could channel. I hadn't told her about the flame or the two soldiers not being able to see me.
My mother, Adia, loved me too much to turn me in to the Children of the Light. Instead, she wrote to the White Tower to ask for assistance and for an Aes Sedai to come get me. Discreetly of course. Then she informed me of what she knew. I was disgusted and disbelieving, that I could channel seemed absurd, but just over a week later one of the Tar Valon witches arrived. She wasn't able to help me though. My father discovered her and killed her first, and then he disowned me and set a party of the men under his command to take me into captivity. I did the only thing I could think to do. I ran. I ran as fast as my feet could take me. I didn't even consider where I was running to. That was how I end up on the doorstep of the greatest evil I had even known.
I stepped into the midst of the enemy and met the woman who would change my life in more ways than I would ever know. Menaihya of the Nine Valleys Taardad. She would one day become close to me as family, my near-sister. She brought me for the first time to the Mistress of Novices, to where my name was put into the book. Somewhere in the novice book, fifteen years of novices back, my name is still written even though now a green fringed shawl can be found around my shoulders. Those novice years are all to clear in my mind, especially that first day. Terrian Dy'ner of Amador, Amadicia died a slow and painful death that day. It would continue for weeks later until Terrian Dy'ner, Novice of the White Tower was born.
I died that day, and my rebirth began.
I spent five years in novice whites after accepting the fact that I could indeed channel and that I would someday rise through the ranks and hopefully attain the shawl. After five years, my first trial came. I was taken to the Arches to face my fears. I saw my mother die in the first because I did nothing. I saw a friend die in the second because I did too much. I killed my best friend, Menaihya herself, in the third because I decided Acceptance was more important. I betrayed and was betrayed. My worst fear was and still is to trust and have that trust turned against me. I know that it is a foolish thing to fear now, that there are worse things, but then I had been betrayed one too many times when I fled Amadicia anyway.
I coasted through nearly the next ten years without incident. My near-sister and I spent most of those years together as Accepted, but then she was raised to the shawl. I will never forget the terrible week that followed. For the first time in nearly fifteen years, we fought. I was jealous of her, quite frankly, of what she had. I was happy for her as well, but jealous. I felt betrayed because I still wore the banded hems of an Accepted. I was a fool and exploded at her. Then, I was enough of a fool to remain mad at her for a week before asking her forgiveness. I'm only happy that I was granted it. I would have hated to lose Menaihya to something so insignificant as a strip of cloth.
I learned of my mother's death soon after. I learned that I could allow myself to love, or at least look for love, even though I would be Aes Sedai. I learned that more important than anything was friendship and just simply believing in myself and the world. I changed so much in such a short time that when Madeline Sedai came for me the second time I wasn't quite ready. But then, is anyone ever ready for that final test? I faced the hundred weaves, I came out alive. I chose the Green Ajah and I lived again. I have lived again since the shawl touched my shoulders and gave me a purpose to my life. I fight the Dark One and his forces. Most importantly though, I live.
I do not know where my life will take me now. I only know that for nineteen years, I lived. For fifteen years after that, I was dead. Now I live again. What more is there to do for a woman who has been dead but live life to its fullest? I can't think of a single better thing.
Terrian Dy'ner
I remember the day I died.
It was a beautiful day. The sun was high in a clear blue sky, casting its warm light across the city of Tar Valon and making the white walls of the White Tower sparkle like a great gemstone in the distance. A great ivory spire, breathtaking in its beauty, that was beautifully silhouetted in the distance against the sapphire of a spring sky. It disgusted me. As much as the beauty of the sight took my breath away and left me awed in much the same way the splendor of the Fortress of the Light did, the White Tower left me sickened for what it represented. I remember that feeling so clearly; as clearly as I remember the day. It was the day before Winternight, and the air was crisp yet held the promise of warmer days to come. I approached Tar Valon, knowing that I was walking willingly into the hands of the Dark. My feet had carried me to the city though, and I knew in my heart there was no other place for me to go. Not if I wanted to live; and if I wanted to live I had to die.
My journey had started many months prior to that day, in the deep cold of a particularly bitter winter. I had discovered, through the limited knowledge held by my mother, that the sickness I had endured for the past week had been because the spark had finally manifested itself within me. I had been absentmindedly thinking of how cold it was when a small flame flickered into existence in front of me. It shocked me because I had no idea that I had actually created it with my want for warmth. If I had known then what I know now about ignoring the cold I might have been spared the pain I was about to endure for a few weeks more. Two of the Children of the Light had seen what I had done. They knew me, as most did because my father commanded many of those in the city, and they followed after me as I ran. I hardly knew what had happened, but I knew that it wouldn't be good for me.
I ran through the streets of the city I had been raised in, not knowing what had possessed me to begin running and not knowing that it had been I that channeled the small flame. Survival instinct had me run from the two Children, so I ran. I ran until I ran straight into a dead end. I turned to go back the way I came, but the two who had chased me stood in the alleyway's entrance. Wincing, I resigned myself to my fate only to have the two men move off in confusion. Somehow, they hadn't seen me despite the fact that I had stood right before them. Looking back, I know that it was Concealment at work. Then, I had only been able to hurry home in confusion. Not two days later I fell terribly ill. I did not know then, and I still do not know now, how my mother came to her next conclusion but she did. My mother determined that I could channel. I hadn't told her about the flame or the two soldiers not being able to see me.
My mother, Adia, loved me too much to turn me in to the Children of the Light. Instead, she wrote to the White Tower to ask for assistance and for an Aes Sedai to come get me. Discreetly of course. Then she informed me of what she knew. I was disgusted and disbelieving, that I could channel seemed absurd, but just over a week later one of the Tar Valon witches arrived. She wasn't able to help me though. My father discovered her and killed her first, and then he disowned me and set a party of the men under his command to take me into captivity. I did the only thing I could think to do. I ran. I ran as fast as my feet could take me. I didn't even consider where I was running to. That was how I end up on the doorstep of the greatest evil I had even known.
I stepped into the midst of the enemy and met the woman who would change my life in more ways than I would ever know. Menaihya of the Nine Valleys Taardad. She would one day become close to me as family, my near-sister. She brought me for the first time to the Mistress of Novices, to where my name was put into the book. Somewhere in the novice book, fifteen years of novices back, my name is still written even though now a green fringed shawl can be found around my shoulders. Those novice years are all to clear in my mind, especially that first day. Terrian Dy'ner of Amador, Amadicia died a slow and painful death that day. It would continue for weeks later until Terrian Dy'ner, Novice of the White Tower was born.
I died that day, and my rebirth began.
I spent five years in novice whites after accepting the fact that I could indeed channel and that I would someday rise through the ranks and hopefully attain the shawl. After five years, my first trial came. I was taken to the Arches to face my fears. I saw my mother die in the first because I did nothing. I saw a friend die in the second because I did too much. I killed my best friend, Menaihya herself, in the third because I decided Acceptance was more important. I betrayed and was betrayed. My worst fear was and still is to trust and have that trust turned against me. I know that it is a foolish thing to fear now, that there are worse things, but then I had been betrayed one too many times when I fled Amadicia anyway.
I coasted through nearly the next ten years without incident. My near-sister and I spent most of those years together as Accepted, but then she was raised to the shawl. I will never forget the terrible week that followed. For the first time in nearly fifteen years, we fought. I was jealous of her, quite frankly, of what she had. I was happy for her as well, but jealous. I felt betrayed because I still wore the banded hems of an Accepted. I was a fool and exploded at her. Then, I was enough of a fool to remain mad at her for a week before asking her forgiveness. I'm only happy that I was granted it. I would have hated to lose Menaihya to something so insignificant as a strip of cloth.
I learned of my mother's death soon after. I learned that I could allow myself to love, or at least look for love, even though I would be Aes Sedai. I learned that more important than anything was friendship and just simply believing in myself and the world. I changed so much in such a short time that when Madeline Sedai came for me the second time I wasn't quite ready. But then, is anyone ever ready for that final test? I faced the hundred weaves, I came out alive. I chose the Green Ajah and I lived again. I have lived again since the shawl touched my shoulders and gave me a purpose to my life. I fight the Dark One and his forces. Most importantly though, I live.
I do not know where my life will take me now. I only know that for nineteen years, I lived. For fifteen years after that, I was dead. Now I live again. What more is there to do for a woman who has been dead but live life to its fullest? I can't think of a single better thing.
First Post!
Well, this is kind of fun isn't it? I do plan on putting up some of my writing here, perhaps even today. Mostly it'll be what is known as creative writing roleplay from Wheel of Time RP. If you know about Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan and you like to right go check it out! My characters there are Terrian Dy'ner, Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah; Novice Calia Selle, and Novice Jocelyn Selle. When I post stuff for each of them I'll color code it for easy identification Terrian's will be green, Calia's will be blue, and Jocelyn's will be in red. Sometimes I might even post stuff that's entirely original instead of set in the Wheel of Time World. Those writings will be posted in purple. Enjoy!
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